


An Early Rose

by Maeve_of_Winter



Series: A Study in Scarlett [1]
Category: DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Secrets, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Teenage Rebellion, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: Oliver Queen meets Arrowette and finds himself reluctantly taking her under his wing.





	An Early Rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chase_acow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/gifts).



"Heyday!" quoth Robin, "yon is a gaily feathered bird, I take my vow."

The others looked and saw a young man walking slowly down the highway. Gay was he, indeed, as Robin had said, and a fine figure he cut, for his doublet was of scarlet silk and his stockings also; a handsome sword hung by his side, the embossed leathern scabbard being picked out with fine threads of gold; his cap was of scarlet velvet, and a broad feather hung down behind and back of one ear. His hair was long and yellow and curled upon his shoulders, and in his hand he bore an early rose, which he smelled at daintily now and then.

"By my life!" quoth Robin Hood, laughing, "saw ye e'er such a pretty, mincing fellow?"

— _The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood_

* * *

Ollie first met Arrowette that day at the Secret Sanctuary alongside the rest of the Justice League. Their first encounter was far from personal to him. Instead, it was League business he’d been automatically dragged along into as part of his duties as a member, even though he was fairly certain he’d have usually found himself on the opposite side.

Plain and simple, it was a confrontation with the youth of today. No punches were being thrown, no lasers were blasting, but the Justice League was there to convince the team disband, and Young Justice wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Stuff it, Yoko,” Superboy had snapped at them before they’d even finished explaining. “Listen here, and listen good: we’re here to stay. We’re not breaking up the band.”

Ollie stifled a sigh, even though he couldn’t blame any of them for being angry. It was the same tired story of the young versus the old, kids against grown-ups. The grown-ups thought the kids were a bad influence on each other, while the kids insisted it wasn’t true and that their team had a right to keep going.

Truth be told, Ollie was ambivalent about the issue, probably because he didn’t have the same stake as some of the Leaguers who had a kid they were close to on the team. On the one hand, he knew that it was only natural that the kids in their business would gravitate towards each other—how many Titans teams had there been over the years, after all? And he would readily admit to admiring the moxie of these kids for not only coming together on their own but also seizing the Secret Sanctuary to use as their base. That took some nerve, and he couldn’t help but respect the kids a bit for it.

“Entitlement,” Bruce had said of it dismissively when Ollie told the others as much. “They think this is all a game, that they simply can sweep in and take whatever they want without needing to consult us about any of it. And given that they didn’t even consider we might have the cave under surveillance, it’s a sign that being around each other only encourages all of them to behave more irresponsibly.”

That was the other hand. That on some level, it was wrong to bring children into their personal battles, to let them enter a world where one single mistake could result in their deaths. That even as they chose to let the kids fight alongside them, they still needed to do all they could to protect them. Protect them from each other, if needed.

Once upon a time, back when he was much younger and more naïve, Ollie had introduced Roy to this world. And now, more than a decade later, it remained one of his biggest regrets. He’d adopted Roy and given him a home, but he’d failed to give Roy a life beyond the one he’d chosen for himself.

So he could understand why these kids’ mentors and guardians wanted to do everything they could to make sure that they stayed safe, that they stayed on task and didn’t take unnecessary risks. Even if it meant playing bad cop and stamping out the kids’ fun.

But the kids and Red Tornado definitely didn’t see it that way.

“Just you _try_ to make us stop,” Wonder Girl challenged all of them assembled there, looking at each one of them in turn with a fierce scowl on her face. “We’ll just go someplace else where you can’t spy on us, and then we’ll hang out there and go on missions just like we do now.”

“She’s right.” Superboy lifted his chin defiantly, the chain on his single earring swinging back and forth as he did. “You can’t control us. You can’t decide if we’re going to be friends or not. Why are you even trying?”

Clark, ever the peacemaker, was the one to respond. “Because it’s about your safety,” he said earnestly. “How you behave as a team—or, rather, how you don’t—affects your ability to function in the field. You have to understand that’s worrying to us. We’re not doing this to control you. We’re not trying to shut you down because we don’t like you being friends.”

“Sure seems like it,” Impulse replied mulishly.

“Grow up, Bart,” Wally told him impatiently. “You can’t do everything you want to do all the time. You might think it’s not fair, but it’s life.”

“And this isn’t a matter of fair or unfair,” Diana said evenly as she stepped forward to direct their attention toward her. “It’s a matter of acknowledging your inability to act as a team and deciding to intervene before someone gets hurt as a result of your actions.”

“You keep on criticizing us for our supposed ‘inability’ to work as a team, but we haven’t had any difficulty completing missions,” Robin replied, and though his voice was the most level of his teammates, there were still distinct veins of annoyance present.

“You forget that we have been watching your movements and interactions, and we have seen how you act around each other,” J’onn replied, his voice not unkind. “Being a team is about more than coordination. It is about discipline. Self-control. But what we have observed from you is significantly more . . _juvenile_.”

“Which should not be surprising,” Red Tornado replied, a slight drone to his artificial voice. “They are teenagers. Logic dictates that they would act significantly less mature than their fully grown adult counterparts.”

“But it’s more than just immaturity,” Wally argued. “From what we’ve seen, they act without thinking. Laughing and joking around with each other is all fun until someone gets hurt because no one wanted the fun to stop. And the more time they spend with each other, the worse it gets. If this childishness continues and so does this mob mentality where nothing ever has any consequences, it could be a lethal combination for anyone of them or anyone they encounter. Sooner or later, something is bound to happen. They’re brash. They’re _careless_.”

“ _Reckless_ ,” Bruce ground out, which Ollie had no doubt was the worst of the team’s sins in his eyes.

“Blasé,” Kyle supplied helpfully. “See? I can play, too.”

“Bully for you,” replied the Young Justice’s archer icily, the disdain on her face evident even from beneath her mask. “In fact, bully for _all_ of you, considering the only reason you came down here was to lecture us on immature we all are and how we shouldn’t be a team because of it. Do I understand you correctly? You want to shut us down because we laugh and joke with each other too much?”

“We want your team to be suspended until you’ve proven that every one of you is capable of behaving responsibly,” Diana corrected.

“As far as I’m concerned, we have nothing to prove to you,” the archer replied coolly. She gave them all a hard stare. “We never asked your permission to form this team, so you ‘suspending’ us or whatever you want to call it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. And your reasons are beyond pathetic.” She tossed her head, rolling her eyes at them as she spoke mockingly. “‘Oh no, we’re happy to see each other, which will inevitably lead to someone getting killed! Thank God the assembled Justice League beamed down to show us the error of our ways and that joking around is a death sentence!’” She shot them all a look of contempt, so deep and intense that Ollie didn’t think it could have developed in just the past few minutes. “Give me a break. You know, normally I admire every one of you, but right now? You’re just being a bunch of control freaks on a power trip. You’re here to throw your weight around because it gives you issues that your sidekicks took the initiative to form a team without waiting around for your permission.”

“I’m not a sidekick!” Superboy objected, but he was the only one to speak immediately after the archer finished her speech.

The League, Ollie among them, were exchanging glances with each other, half-astounded by the teens’ stubborn resistance and this one girl’s particular vehemence, half-irritated at how they refused to listen to them.

Bruce, the lone one of them unmoved by her words, was the first one to try to counter her. “You’re wrong to dismiss our concerns. On the battlefield, even just a split-second too long joking with your friends can cost a life.”

“Which might be valid reasoning if you’d watched us on the battlefield _even once_ ,” the archer bit out, glaring at him. “But you haven’t, have you?” She turned to the other League members. “Have you _ever_ seen us in action? Have you even watched us work as a team? Let me guess: you decided just from watching us at our headquarters that we must be a bunch of idiots who you have to prevent from choking on our own tongues, and so you’ve got to shut us down. Because _obviously_ , it would be just _utterly impossible_ for us to have fun with each other here and get serious where it counts.”

Sarcasm dripped from every word in her last sentence, and Ollie caught Wally and Kyle exchanging disbelieving looks, amazed that the girl was willing to go toe-to-toe with Batman without showing a single sign of being intimidated by him. Ollie himself was impressed, and he could feel his respect for the girl rising—there was something incredibly promising about youth who weren’t afraid to stand up to authority figures.

But Wally and Kyle weren’t the only ones speaking in silent glances. There was a series of looks from Bruce, J’onn, Clark, and Diana, and it was then that Ollie realized the girl was right: no one of them _had_ seen these kids working as a team in battle. He himself hadn’t, but then again, this wasn’t his fight, and he’d assumed that these kids’ mentors had found some footage and seen mistakes, errors, signs that the team _needed_ this type of intervention.

He was wrong. And it looked like they’d jumped the gun. Which meant that it was time to make amends for that.

“How about you give us the chance to see you?” Ollie suggested. He looked from the kids to the League, an idea forming in his mind. “Why don’t we give you a test, and then we can see how you work? That way we can check if our concerns are valid or misplaced.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed at him; she didn’t trust him or any of them rest of them at all, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.

But Impulse, true to his name, leapt at the opportunity. “All right,” he told Ollie without wasting a moment. “If we can’t beat the bad guy by working together, then we’ll do whatever you want and  never see each other again. But if we do beat the bad guy, then you have to let us do whatever _we_ want. And we also get to keep the Justice Cave.”

“It’s the Secret Sanctuary,” Wonder Girl corrected him.

At Impulse’s agreement, Bruce sent Ollie a look, clearly not thrilled at the freedom the bargain gave the kids, but J’onn, Diana, and Clark seemed to cautiously approve.

Clark addressed the teens. “Does that sound fair to you?” He turned to the girl. “And to you, Miss?” Even in the face of relentless defiance, he remained both fair and polite.

Sometimes, Ollie envied his patience, but this time, he was rooting for the kids. They were right to think their treatment was unfair, and he was proud of them for pushing back instead of just giving in.

There was a flurry of looks from one teen to another, and while the archer was the last to give her approval, she did so with a short, firm nod.

Robin was the one to be speak for them. “All right. We’re in.”

The teens took a few minutes to suit up and make sure they were ready for what they’re about to face. Wally used the time to zip over and start giving advice to a less than attentive Impulse, while Diana pulled Wonder Girl aside to speak softly to her.

Ollie himself decided to grab a few words with the archer, and he walked over to her as she double-checked her bow and quiver.

“Brave of you,” he commented as he stopped in front of her. “To stand up to all of us like that and fight to stay with your friends.”

She glanced at him. “Someone has to be,” she replied, enough brusqueness in her voice to leave Ollie blinking.

But there was something in her gaze that flickered as she first looked at him, something he couldn’t quite identify. Uncertainty, maybe? Fear? He didn’t spend enough time around teenagers these days to be able to easily read their emotions.

Regardless, she had Ollie’s respect. “Good luck out there,” he told her sincerely. “I’ll be cheering you and your team on, kid.”

He could sense Bruce’s glare burning a hole through him at that remark, but he ignored it.

When the girl looked up from her bow to meet his eyes again, a small smile was playing on the corners of her lips. “Arrowette. My name is Arrowette.”

“Arrowette,” Ollie repeated, half-amused, half-proud that he’d managed at least managed to get at least a few civil words from the girl who seemed to have a hefty grudge against the lot of them, warranted as it might have been at the moment. “Well, I wish you only the best.”

She slung her quiver back over her shoulder before walking off to join her assembled team. “Thanks.”

Ollie watched her as she walked away, but as he did, he found himself stuck with a faint, nagging feeling that he’d met her somewhere before. Yet even as he racked his brain, he couldn’t figure out where.

Oh, well. If he had met her before in combat, he might be able to recall the occasion while watching her now. But if he wasn’t . . . then that was something of a mystery for him to solve.

In their type of game, it was important to keep track of both old friends and old enemies.

“Whaddya think?” Kyle asked Ollie as returned to the group. “They gonna make it?”

“No idea,” Ollie answered honestly. “Hope they do, though. They’re kids. They should be able to have fun. And that kid—” he jerked his thumb back at Arrowette, “has got some real determination. I like her.”

Wally snorted. “You would. Barry told me that you always take up the cause of whatever counterculture weirdos you can find, especially if they make the same kind of grand speeches you always do. Guess that includes mouthy teenagers.”

Ollie shrugged. “As long as that mouthy teenager has a valid point, then why not?” He turned to watch as J’onn began to brief Young Justice on their assignment. “But now that they’ve been writing checks with their mouths, I’ll guess we’ll see if they can cash them with their moves.”

* * *

The answer to his question was a resounding “yes,” which was made abundantly clear once the League had a chance to witness the team in action.

While he wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, Ollie was impressed by them. Superboy, who seemed so cocky and headstrong in conversation, used all of his skills to their fullest effect, and however much of an egomaniac he might have seemed, he had no problem deferring to Robin in the field. Same with Impulse—ditzy as the kid might be, but he obviously knew his stuff and knew that Robin knew anything that he didn’t.

Robin, meanwhile, showed himself to be a talented tactician, strategizing their positions and attacks to provide a strong but conservative offense, with focus on minimizing damages and covering for any weaknesses rather than anything flashy or visually impressive. He went for substance over style, an important concentration for any leader to have.

But Robin wasn’t the only one to show leadership prowess. While Robin was planning _ahead_ , Wonder Girl was the one monitoring the _now_ , recognizing when their strategies were working and able to push them to their logical conclusion, and calling for revisions to their plans if they weren’t. Robin set the team up for success, and Wonder Girl was the force driving them there.

Of course, the one who had Ollie’s attention the most often was Arrowette. She was masterfully skilled, there was no doubt, and not just with archery. Given that she’d never been on the League’s radar at all before, he’d took her for an amatuer, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Someone, somewhere along the line, had trained her and trained her well, in judo and kickboxing, it looked like, and judging from the way she positioned herself, some non combat-focused discipline as well—maybe ballet? The manner with which she moved, the style with which she fought, made it clear that she’d been coached in combat and archery for years, likely even the past decade. Even Dinah would have been impressed by her hand-to-hand, and Dinah had been trained by the Justice Society.

But it wasn’t a case of the parts being greater than the whole. The kids fought as a team. They could anticipate each other’s movements. Cover for any missteps another might make. And whenever one of the team looked like they might have been in trouble, a mysterious cloud of thick mist rapidly settled, obscuring the League’s view for several seconds, only to vanish as quickly as it came, and the teen in question was already back in the fray, giving as good as they got and more.

“Your opinion?” Red Tornado questioned the League members when the exercise was finished. “I believe you’ll find their performance to have been more than satisfactory.” And even though Ollie knew he was a robot, he could have sworn that he could still hear smugness in his voice.

Since the kids more than passed the test they’d been given, the League agreed to let them remain in action.

“For now, at least,” Bruce said impassively as he updated the files of the Young Justice members on the Watchtower database.

“You mean, until they’ve given us cause to think their team can’t continue,” Ollie insisted, scowling at Bruce. “They won the agreement. We play by their terms unless a new reason—a _good_ reason,” he added pointedly, still annoyed at being roped in the initial dispute, “comes up that would change the way they operate for the worse.”

“Hmph.” Bruce only sent him an utterly unimpressed look before returning his attention to the monitor screen.

“I still think we made a mistake not to have them regularly reporting us,” Wally worried, leaning against the counter as he watched Bruce’s progress. “They need supervision. You can’t convince Bart to so much as microwave a frozen burrito if you’re not constantly there hounding him about it.”

“Red Tornado is there with them,” Ollie reminded him. “And I seem to remember that you and the other Titans _hated_ it whenever the League tried to interfere back when you were with your old team.”

“That was then, this is now,” Wally retorted, but his attention was diverted when he saw Bruce creating a new file on Arrowette. “No information on her yet?” he questioned in disbelief. “I’d assumed she was vetted. Are you sure we can trust her?”

“I’ve researched her background and added it to my private files. I’ve found no reason to doubt her,” Bruce returned disinterestedly as he added _Demonstrates evident signs of authority issues_ to Arrowette’s description. “But as of right now, it would be irresponsible of me to allow the League at large access to her private information. Certain items need to stay under wraps for the moment.”

Flummoxed, Ollie found himself exchanging glances with Wally, the same questioning expression on the other man’s face as his own. What the hell was going on with this kid that Batman didn’t want the League to know about? In an instant, Ollie remembered the vague sense of recognition he’d had when he’d first laid eyes on her, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there might be a connection.

He wasn’t the only one with suspicions.

“Is there something we should know about her, Bats?” Wally demanded. “Look, I have Bart to think of. If he even has one teammate who’s not on the up-and-up—”

Bruce didn’t even let him finish his sentence. “It hardly matters,” he informed them. “I doubt Arrowette will remain with the team for long.”

Ollie looked at him sharply, both intrigued by the response and wary of its meaning. “What are you talking about?”

This time Bruce turned to face him fully. “Young Justice might have earned the privilege of remaining operational, but the League can’t allow them complete freedom. Since the team technically consists of children, we need to ask permission from a parent or mentor to allow each member to participate on the team. All of the members have someone to vouch for them or give them permission—except for Arrowette. With her specific situation, there’s no one to speak for her, not without revealing her identity and putting her in danger. And without anyone to give consent for her activities with the team, she can’t remain as a member.”

“That’s bullshit,” Ollie stated flatly. “Did you ask Robin’s parents for permission before you put him in a costume and sent him out to fight all of those psychopaths running around Gotham? Are you going to ask their permission for him to remain on the team _now_? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were targeting Arrowette because you didn’t like what she had to say.”

Looks might not have killed, but Ollie was still sure the expression on Bruce’s face as he whirled toward him still somehow could have managed.

“I’m not ‘targeting’ _anyone_ ,” he snarled, anger entering his voice for the first time. “And certainly not Arrowette. Tell me something: if she doesn’t have a guardian who knows what she’s doing, who do you think is going to sign for emergency medical care if she’s ever seriously injured? Who do you think we’re going to notify if she _dies_?” Bruce’s fists clenched at his sides. “We can’t allow a child to join us. Not if she doesn’t have an adult who understands the risks.”

“If what you say is true, then by cutting her off from her team, you’re making sure she doesn’t have anyone _at all_ ,” Ollie shot back. He could see Bruce’s logic, but it didn’t seem like much of a solution for whatever problems Arrowette had. “Isn’t there anything you can do? Find a way for her to be a probationary member or something? Her friends and Red Tornado might not seem like much to you, Clark, or Diana just judging by how you tried to shut them down today, but I’ll bet you anything they mean the world to Arrowette right now.”

Bruce let out a long breath that was almost a sigh. “I understand it will be difficult for her. But the League cannot condone renegade child vigilantes, especially not ones without anyone to answer for them should the worst happen.” He turned back to the screen with an air of finality.

Ollie watched him for a moment with a sinking feeling, knowing that trying to convince Bruce on this point would be like trying to talk Lex Luthor into permanently reforming. Trading glances with Wally again, he found that, even though they’d disagreed earlier, they shared the same sentiment now: sympathy for the lone teenager of the group who was about to have her entire support system torn away from her.

* * *

Arrowette didn’t leave Ollie’s mind in the next few weeks even though he didn’t see her again. In between vanquishing villains, blackmailing corrupt politicians into doing the right thing for the first time in their career, and trying to fight the ever-rising gangs in Star City, he found himself wondering if she was okay, if she still had her friends from the Young Justice team or if Bats had made sure she was cut off completely. He worried it was the latter—no matter how much Bats hadn’t wanted to go through with it, he wasn’t the type to miss a trick, and probably J’onn had checked his work just to make sure nothing Arrowette did in the future could be tied to the League or Young Justice.

But those kids were tenacious, Ollie tried to tell himself. They’d wanted to stick together—hell, they’d been determined. The rest of them had probably found a way to stay in touch with Arrowette. Maybe.

Bruce had said that the girl had no one. She should have at least had her friends. But the League had gone right ahead and taken that away from her. And it bothered Ollie more than he could say that he let it happen.

Years ago, when Roy had needed help, when Roy had been at his lowest, Ollie had turned him away, unable to face his own failures as a parent. But Roy had come out okay at the end, because he’d had friends to help him when Ollie had refused, friends to help him through detox and then more friends later on to give him work and place to stay when he’d understandably wanted to keep his distance from Ollie.

Roy had made it through back then because of his friends. But Arrowette was even younger than Roy had been, and now she might not have her friends anymore. Would she make it through now?

Ollie was unable to push the question from his mind, and he knew Dinah could tell he was preoccupied. She left him to himself for a little while but then asked him about it one night when they were reading in bed together. Or rather, Dinah was reading, and he was ignoring his book on medieval warfare in favor of brooding over Arrowette.

A tender hand on his shoulder startled him out of his game of woulda-shoulda-coulda, and Ollie turned to find Dinah looking at him, a mischievous little smile on her face.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she offered.

Ollie snorted, snapping the book shut and casting it aside. “Trust me, you don’t have to pay me to get me to put my two cents in. Just ask Hal, Bruce, or Clark, and they’ll tell you all about how I never shut up.”

“You talk a lot?” Dinah asked dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

In payback, Ollie grabbed a throw pillow and gently bopped her over the head with it, but she quickly wrestled it away from him and then sidled into his lap, almost touching her forehead to his and she trailed her fingers over his chest.

“You do talk, but you’re a man of action first and foremost. Whenever you talk, it’s because you’re planning to do something or you want to plan something or you’ve already decided what needs to be done and are about to go off and do it,” Dinah told him, pinning him with her gaze. “I’ve rarely seen you restless like this before—not talking about what’s troubling you and not doing anything, either, not even trying to tackle the problem head-on. And you tend to run off to do some pretty stupid things, Oliver. So . . .” she ran a hand down his neck, gently stroking his skin. “What’s bothering you?”

Ollie sighed, at once grateful for having someone who cared as much as Dinah and also unsure how to explain the situation. “I met a girl a few weeks ago.”

One of Dinah’s impossibly fine eyebrows rose in bemusement. “Oh, really?”

Ollie scoffed. “Not like that. She was a part of the Young Justice team. An archer by the name of Arrowette. And she’s good. Better than I’ve ever seen before at that age.”

“Better than Roy?” Dinah asked in surprise.

“Better than almost anyone,” Ollie confirmed. “But she . . .” he swallowed, suddenly finding it hard to continue. “She reminds me an awful lot of Roy. You—do you remember when you took him in, Dinah? Because I wouldn’t?”

There was a brief pause as Dinah studied him, but then she nodded.

“I do,” she said, tactfully avoiding the details of Ollie putting his ward on street due to his addiction. “And you think Arrowette has the same . . . problem?”

“She’s got problems aplenty from what Bruce was saying, but not of that kind, it seems,” Ollie replied. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and feeling shame, old and new, course through his veins. “See, Arrowette’s really good. The whole team is really good. But she’s being booted from the group because she doesn’t have a parent or guardian to give her permission to stay on the team. She’s going to lose her friends because of whatever problems she already has at home. I don’t know the details—Bruce didn’t want to give them—but we’re basically punishing a kid for not having a mom and a dad and white picket fence. And _goddammit_ , I think it’s wrong, but here I am, letting it happen.”

“But you want to do something,” Dinah guessed. She looked him square in the eyes. “I know you too well to think you’re going to let an injustice pass you by without at least trying to stop it. And that’s why she reminds you of Roy, isn’t it? Because she’s poised to lose everyone because the League’s about to close her off from her friends. Just like you closed Roy off from yourself all those years ago.”

There was no judgment in her tone even though Ollie thought there perhaps should have been, and he found himself shaking his head.

“At least Roy had friends to turn to. You, Hal, and the Titans, both new and old. But this girl? I don’t think she has that. Bats said she didn’t have anyone. And . . .” A cynical thought he hadn’t wanted to voice before now emerged. “Things could go very wrong for a kid her age without anyone to help her. Not just getting lost to the system—as if that isn’t bad enough. But this kid has enough skill to kill people easily. If we toss her out and turn our backs on her . . .” Ollie shrugged. “I’m not trying to be melodramatic, but if she then wanted to become a villain or a hired gun, it’s an option that’s within very near reach.”

“Then take it away from her,” Dinah urged him. “I know how you feel about kids in costumes these days. I know you don’t want another sidekick after everything that happened with Roy. But if it means saving her? You’d never forgive yourself for not giving her the chance.”

“But who would I even be saving her for, then?” Ollie wondered out loud. “Am I doing it to help her? For myself? A long overdue effort for Roy for when I ignored him when he needed me?”     

“All three,” Dinah said firmly. “We’re complicated beings, Oliver. We can have more than one motivation. And if this girl needs help as desperately as you think she does, do you think she’s going to care if you’re being kind to her out of the goodness of your heart versus leftover guilt about Roy?”

The ferocity of Arrowette’s responses to the Justice League flashed through Ollie’s mind, the anger burning in her blue eyes, her refusal to stand down even when faced with the whole lot of them.

“Most people wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But somehow, I think this one might.”

* * *

Selfish motivations or not, Ollie knew Dinah was right, and so he gave passed along a message for Arrowette to Wonder Girl. While he figured her to be more responsible than Superboy or Impulse and less likely than Robin to dime him out to Batman for it, he still wasn’t sure if the message would get through.

But just before sundown a week later, moments after he’d finished clobbering a group of drug dealers and stealing their blood money from them, he found Arrowette waiting for him. Or at least, the girl who used to be Arrowette.

He’d sent those punks running—they were too scared to even try to take their money back from him—and he was just reveling in satisfaction at seeing them hightail it away when a voice rang out from above him.

“Green Arrow. Wonder Girl said you wanted to speak to me.”

Turning, he found a hooded figure lurking in the lengthening shadows on one of the alley’s overhead fire escapes. The clothing was dark and difficult to see in the gathering dim, but he could still discern the quiver and bow.

“Hey, Arrowette,” he called amiably. “Thanks for coming. Glad you made it.”

She leapt down from the fire escape, landing in a crouch before instantly straightening. “Your Justice League has already finished with me—told me that I wasn’t welcome on the playground if I didn’t have my permission slip signed.” Her voice was laced with bitterness. “Did you call me here to pour bleach on my wounds?”

Ollie shook his head in both decline and disbelief. “You know, some people would be offended that you’d think they would be that cruel, but I’m more worried that you would still show up to get that kind of treatment if that was the kind of man you thought I was.”

He took a moment to take in her outfit—it was new. She’d ditched that frou-frou miniskirt and bikini top she’d been wearing the first time they’d met and had now donned a much more practical outfit of a hooded red jumpsuit. It looked significantly more substantial than what she’d had before, and she’d added a pair of tall boots and body armour on the torso that were both so dark he wasn’t sure if they were purple or black. Not that it mattered—he was just glad to see her wearing something that offered some measure of defense. Her last outfit would have been shredded to pieces the first time she’d have to go into melee combat.

Still, it felt strange not to see her face and to instead only be able to see the barest outline of her mask in the shadows of her hood, especially when her undisguised fury had been evident on throughout their last encounter. And he wondered if he would have finally be able to place her and determine why she was familiar to him if he could see her face again.

Arrowette was having none of his concern. “What did you want me here for, then?”

Ollie bit back a sigh. Distance had made Arrowette seem more approachable; now that she was right in front of him, he was reminded of just how prickly she actually was.

Maybe actions could speak louder than words.

He held up the rolls of cash he’d lifted from the dealers. “You mind if we walk and talk? I gotta take this money to the people it should go to.”

Arrowette stiffened. “I’ll be honest. I’m not really big on the police. I’d prefer to avoid them if at all possible.”

“Wasn’t planning on going to the police,” Ollie told her as he began walking out of the alley. “With Nudocera as the commissioner, this cash would disappear long before it could be entered into the evidence log. Why do you think I didn’t bother bringing in those dealers? They would have been back out the street even before I was.” He shook his head, feeling the familiar surge of anger swell inside of him at the pathetic state of his city’s government. “No, this money is going back to Star City’s citizens. If these good people have to deal with thugs and drugs running rampant on their streets because the police can’t be bothered to do their damn job, then it’s only fair that the people see some of the profits.”

Arrowette fell into step beside him, and together they made their way deeper into the slums. The neighborhood had been ramshackle before, but the further they went along, the worse it got, with shutters dangling off of houses, plywood boards replacing windows and doors, and fire escapes showing more rust than metal. Litter and pieces of rubbish lined the sidewalks, smashed liquor bottles dotted the streets, and almost every visible wall or road sign had been graffitied with some kind of gang tag.

“Man, I live in the sticks, and I thought some of the trailer parks out there looked bad,” Arrowette remarked, disbelief in her voice as she looked around in a type of shocked fascination.

It was a reminder to Ollie of how young she actually was, how little she’d seen. Considering what Bruce had said about her situation, though, maybe it was a good thing that she could still be surprised.

“This place is what happens when leaders forget about their people,” Ollie said grimly, continuing down the street and rounding the corner, reaching the neighborhood park. “They live in their glamorous ivory towers and either can’t be bothered or don’t remember to give a damn about the people starving down below.”

They reached the playground and wove around the chain-link fence to a couple of jungle gyms and swing sets that were just was worn and dilapidated as the houses surrounding it. But the two dozen or so children running and shrieking as they chased each other across the monkey bars or down the slides didn’t seem to notice.

Most suburban playgrounds had almost as many parents as it did children, who watched and chatted amongst each other as they kept an eye of their kids, but this one only had a few, with maybe a handful more of older brothers and sisters sent out to watch their younger siblings. The majority of these kids’ parents, Ollie guessed, couldn’t afford to spend time watching their children and were instead working to support their families, hoping that one day their kids could escape this life and get to a place where they would matter.

The very idea made Oliver burn with anger. Every person in this neighborhood mattered, dammit. Even if the rest of the city didn’t care about them.

He began striding over to the parents and siblings, but Arrowette cut across in front of him.

“I’ll cover you,” she said, walking off to climb up a wall with the best vantage point, not waiting for his agreement.

But he didn’t mind. In a neighborhood with as many problems as this one, it probably didn’t hurt to have someone keeping a lookout, for the police as much as disgruntled residents.

It didn’t take long to hand out the money to the parents and teenagers, though sometimes it took a few tries to persuade some of them to accept. The younger ones were the most trusting, taking the cash from him almost without question, just with a brief look of suspicion that was quickly overwhelmed by happiness. The adults were harder to convince.

“What’s the con?” one woman asked him, looking up at him wearily and putting down the notebook where she’d been calculated numbers in the margin. Likely her finances for the month, Ollie surmised.

“No con,” Ollie told her earnestly as her offered her a handful of twenties from the stack. “Just consider this a lucky windfall, that’s all.”

The woman sighed, looking more tired than annoyed. “There’s always a con. And I don’t want to have the police pounding down my door at three AM and demanding to know if I took money from some drug heist.”

“Nah, Shauna, this guy’s for real!” enthused a boy, maybe thirteen at most, to whom Ollie had already given his share. He jabbed a finger in Ollie’s direction. “His name is Green Arrow, and he always does stuff like this—I was at that bodega on Market Square when he did the same thing last month, and I’m still here.”

Cautiously, clearly continuing to suspect a trick, the woman accepted the money he was offering her, wariness clear in her gaze. Her decision seemed to inspire more confidence in the other parents around her, and they, too, slowly began to take his offerings, their expressions mostly skeptical but with just a sliver of hope.

By the time he finished, it was twilight, the dark setting in. Unwilling to be caught wandering the streets at night, the parents and older siblings of the children began urging the kids to leave, sometimes dragging them if the kid in question was particularly stubborn. As for the ones without parents there, Ollie knew it was his responsibility to see them home safely.

“All right, kids, time to go on home,” he called, striding up to them.

“You can’t _make_ us,” one little girl with her hair in pigtails insisted from where she was hanging from the monkey bars.

“No,” Ollie returned easily. “I’ll just ask you nicely. And I’ll offer these,” he held up the remaining bills, “as a reward for all of you who behave and do as I say.”

 _That_ got their attention. All of the kids followed him out of the playground, Arrowette catching up to him as their group returned to the street.

“Not above bribery, I see,” she commented, amused.

“All in the name of safety,” Ollie replied with a smile.

As they continued to walk, the two of them fell to the back of the group, shepherding the kids along, making sure each one of the children reached home safely—and with their money.

“So, the stories about you are true,” Arrowette observed as the last child came to collect his prize and then skipped up the steps to vanish into his home. “You really are a modern day Robin Hood, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.”

“Not an accurate comparison,” Ollie returned. “The sheriff of Nottingham was more fair to his townspeople than the city is to these particular citizens.”

Arrowette cast him a long glance, her expression hidden by her hood. “Why did you ask me to come along with you tonight?”

Ollie looked at her, wishing he could see her face and gauge her reaction; it would have been helpful to know if he was making any missteps with her. But since he couldn’t, it was probably best that he just put his cards on the table.

“I know you’re not exactly happy with the Justice League right now,” he said, careful to keep his voice from seeming critical or accusatory. “And frankly, I don’t blame you. The way you and the rest of the team were treated that day at the Secret Sanctuary was bad enough, but revoking your membership from the team was a terrible decision, as far as I’m concerned.” He was tempted to tell her he’d argued against it, but since he hadn’t managed to make a difference in the end, he figured she wouldn’t be too impressed, anyway. “But I wanted to show you that we’re not bad people, no matter how right you are to be angry with us.”

“Huh?” Arrowette paused, seeming legitimately surprised, but then recovered. “Well, I honestly never thought you were bad people. What I said back there at the Justice Cave about admiring you all? That was totally true. I think you’re all pretty great. I like that you always try to do the right thing.” Her tone turned sour. “What I don’t like it that where I’m involved, the ‘right thing’ always seems to be separating me from my friends and making my life miserable.”

“I really am sorry about that,” Ollie said genuinely. “Part of the reason I asked you here tonight is because I wanted to check in with you about how you’re doing. If there’s anything you need—”

“Green Arrow, I like all of the League, but you’re probably the only one I have a legitimate iota of respect for right now,” Arrowette told him, sincerity in her tone. “Well, you and Reddy. And I wouldn’t do either of you the disservice of asking you to associate with me.”

 _Disservice?_ What the hell was she talking about? What the hell had they done to this kid by isolating her from her friends? What the hell had already happened to her?

“Listen,” he said firmly, reaching out and putting a hand on Arrowette’s shoulder. He doubted she would appreciate it, but he wanted to make a point. “I don’t know what your deal is, frankly. I don’t think you’d tell me if I asked.”

“I mean, I do barely know you,” Arrowette remarked.

“But if there’s anytime you need someone to help you out with anything, you can come to me,” Ollie continued. “Hell, if you want, I can even try to talk to the League for you again.” It hadn’t worked last time, but maybe if he was persistent enough, they’d give in. Sometimes it worked with Star City’s civil servants.

Drawing in a deep breath, he found himself taking a step he’d been arguing with himself about. “And if you were okay with it, I could even volunteer to be your mentor or guardian, or whatever the League needs an adult near you to be to give you permission to keep going with your team.”

His offer was met with silence, but then Arrowette shook her head.

“No.” Her voice was resolute. “It’s no burn on you, but I don’t want them to think they can force me into playing by their rules. If they wouldn’t take me as I was, I’m not going to change in order to convince them to accept me.”

“It’s a matter of signing a permission slip,” Ollie pointed out, slightly exasperated. “It’s not exactly asking you to compromise your morals by letting me be the one to vouch for you.”

Arrowette shook her head. “I don’t have a whole lot, but I do have my principles. And I won’t be giving in and playing by their rules just so they can just find another way to trip me up through regulations later. I mean, no offense to them, but all my experiences with adults in power have ended with them thoroughly fucking me over whenever they had the chance.”

“Jesus Christ, kid!” Ollie exclaimed, stopping to look at her. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That I don’t trust people who claim to know what’s best for me,” Arrowette returned, unmoved. “And that I’m finished with the League for now. Relax, Green Arrow—I’m not talking about you.”

“That’s really not what my concern was,” Ollie muttered. Bruce’s description of her flitted through Ollie’s mind— _shows evident signs of authority issues_ —and man oh man, was Ollie beginning to get a picture of why. “Hey, if anyone with power over you is asking you to, um,” he fumbled, “do— _stuff_ with them—”

“Then I can thoroughly kick their ass, because I’ve been training in judo and mixed martial arts since before I was using polysyllables,” Arrowette replied flatly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. For the record and your own peace of mind, no one is forcing me into having sex with them. Glad you care, but we’re moving on from that.”

Jesus, this girl. He almost didn’t want to know where she had gotten this type of attitude from, or how and why it had formed. But he did want to know, and his instincts were already urging him to find those people and put the hurt on them, no matter what Arrowette had said.

But he had to keep his cool. She still didn’t trust me, and he wouldn’t get her trust by blowing up in anger the moment she’d confided in him.

Ollie let out a long breath, his pulse slowing down as he suddenly realized it had been racing. “Remember what I said. I’m here to help you if you need it. And don’t forget your friends, either, Arrowette.” The parallels to Roy were still wearing grooves in his brain by how much he was worrying about it. “Even if you’re not on the team anymore, they still care about you.”

“I know. And I’m going to remain in touch with them,” she reassured him. “But my name’s not Arrowette anymore. I left her behind when I left the Young Justice team.”

“Good that you found a new beginning in an ending,” Ollie encouraged her, trying to support any optimism she could find. “What’s your new codename going to be?”

“Scarlock,” she informed as she turned to leave. “From this day onward, my name is Scarlock.”

Ollie couldn’t help but think that the name sounded like an industrial metal band from the nineties, but he bit his tongue, refusing to rain on the kid’s parade. “Well, then, Scarlock, don’t be a stranger. If you need help, or if you just want to talk to someone, you know where to find me.”

Scarlock nodded. “Thank you.” And with that, she vanished into the night.

 _Scarlock._ The name echoed in Ollie’s head as he resumed patrol. For whatever reason, it seemed familiar somehow, just like Arrowette had the first time he’d seen her. He knew that name from somewhere, and he knew the girl from somewhere. He was sure of it.

There wasn’t much he could do about it at this point, anyway. Ollie glanced back in the direction where Scarlock had run off, wishing he’d been able to bring her back to her team, wishing he’d been able to help her at all. But who knew? Maybe she’d take him up on his offer and come back to see him one of these days.


End file.
